


The Temptation Accusation

by TheScarecrowsCrow



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Flustered Aziraphale, Good wine, M/M, Temptations, Tenderness, but aziraphale is convinced he did, crowley doesn't actually tempt aziraphale, even if they are traitors, incidents in the bookshop, scarred beelzebub, scarred gabriel, very confused crowley, you probably shouldn't keep track of what your employees are miracling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24464029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScarecrowsCrow/pseuds/TheScarecrowsCrow
Summary: After a pleasant day out, Aziraphale and Crowley retire to the bookshop to drink the rest of the night away.Not long after this the angel starts to experience some new feelings, and accusations of temptations are thrown about.For once in his life, Crowley is actually innocent - and definitely confused as hell.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

Post Not-Pocalypse was truly blissful for the ethereal and occult beings that each had a hand in stopping the end times. Both Crowley and Aziraphale truly enjoyed their newfound freedom - and with it came a lot of advantages. Without dealing with the watchful eyes of their respective ‘sides’, the two were finally able to spend more time together enjoying life’s little pleasures - without the fear of repercussions or having to constantly look over their shoulders. Today was one such day. Ducks had been fed, indulgent meals had been had, and now it was time to relax back at the bookshop with a nice bottle of wine and good company - or ‘bad company’, as Crowley would prefer it to be described.

Two human-shaped beings sauntered toward the building in Soho. Aziraphale, a fair angel with unnaturally blonde hair and blue eyes twinkling with quiet mirth. Crowley, a sharp, lanky demon with an entrancing walk and a messy red mop poking out at all angles on his head.

Aziraphale approached the door to the bookshop to unlock it, laughing breathily at a satirical comment Cowley had just made. 

“You know my dear, I’m pretty sure you’re right. Why else would an angel that doesn’t eat  _ anything, _ let alone sugar, need dental work. Sandalphon has a lot to answer for!” he chuckled, grinning widely.

“M’Just saying, it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.” Crowley tried to keep a straight face, but just one look at Aziraphale had him cracking up. Both continued their laughter as they stumbled into the bookshop, completely carefree with the shared company. They took up their usual positions in the back room, Crowley throwing himself across the couch like he owned it and Aziraphale sitting delicately in his armchair.

With a snap of the fingers, wine glasses appeared - and promises of more laughter and good times to come with it.

Aziraphale was very happy to see that Crowley’s temperament seemed to have improved since midafternoon. London wasn’t exactly known for its weather beyond… dull and wet. But today was different. Before anyone was even truly awake, the sun had already been splitting the trees - and it only continued to get hotter from that point on. Extreme temperatures always put the demon in a testy mood. Even now, whilst somewhat better, the bookshop still had a residual heat. If either Being were a bit more sober, they might have thought to miracle in an air-conditioning unit. But they weren’t.

“This heat is mad, I can’t put up with much more of this I tell ye.” The demon forced himself up, shifting off his jacket, untucking his shirt in the process. He discarded his sunglasses on the floor - given it was no longer necessary to hide his serpentine eyes - and rolled up his black shirtsleeves, making sure to undo the top two or three buttons as well to try and give himself some room to breath in the stifling heat.

Aziraphale felt truly sorry for Crowley, but could see that he was almost instantaneously better after making himself more comfortable. Excess clothing discarded or loosened, Crowley threw himself back on the sofa and sunk into it, enjoying the slightly cool fabric against his over-warm skin. Both settled back, ready to talk nonsense and reminisce for the rest of the night just like they always did after a good day out.

Crowely stretched languidly over the surface of the couch, much more like a cat than the snake he truly represented. His arms reached back over his head, one leg bent and resting casually along the top of the couch whilst the other leg extended over the other armrest - shirt lifting to reveal a small sliver of flesh about his torso during this relaxed display.

“I know I’m supposed to be all about the fiery hot brimstone stuff but I really despise this weather - cold blooded you know, at some point it just goes too far and the temperature keeps climbing. Never a happy medium. Why couldn’t I have just been a grizzly bear, or-or even a squirrel or something - squirrels can be evil little buggers too. Did I tell you about the time...” Crowley continued his rant on evil squirrels, seemingly without end.

Aziraphale, as a devout angel of the lord, always prided himself on being a good listener. Well, not ‘prided’ of course - because pride is considered sinful - but he was a compassionate listener all the same. Aziraphale had also not listened to a single word that Crowly had just said.

Oh, he wasn’t trying to be rude, far from it. In fact, Aziraphale was just inclined to be easily distracted when he had consumed enough excellent wine. The same may also be said for when he consumed poor quality wine - but given that he’d refused to ever do such a thing, he could not say for certain.

No, Aziraphale was distracted, but he could still be a good listener when it called for it. Just not right now. He stared at Crowley, seemingly entranced by the display. He slowly leaned forward from his perch on the arm chair, as though trying to get as close as reasonable possible without actually standing. A strange feeling had washed over him, something he’d never experienced before,  _ What? I don’t…  _ he squinted at Crowley, as though trying to comprehend what was happening - as though scrutinization would provide all the answers.

He suddenly agreed with the serpent - it was far too hot in here. Did the central heating turn itself on without his knowledge? Was there another fire?! He glanced around suspiciously, but found that his eyes were drawn back to Crowley’s leisurely form almost as soon as they had left.

He loosened his bowtie just a smidge to compensate for the heat, he could feel his skin turning beet red with flush - an unfortunate side effect of being so fair to begin with.  _ Am I sick? Is this what it feels like to be sick? What is happening?  _ He finds his eyes almost magnetically pulled to Crowley’s lifted shirt, and consequently the skin it had revealed. He continued to stare, unwilling or unable to look anywhere else, with the strange feeling seeming to increase tenfold.

“-What do you think?” Crowley asked, eager for Aziraphale’s input. The Demon looked at the Angel for the first time since he began his rant and found himself being completely ignored - which he did not appreciate.

“Angel?” Aziraphale continued to stare at Crowley in a very unnerving manner. He leant up on his elbow, fully facing him now, “Aziraphale?!”

Aziraphale seemed to jump out of skin - a feat even ethereal beings could not literally accomplish in a human body without suffering discorporation. 

“What?” he said dumbly after a moment, colour draining from his face just as quickly as it had appeared in the first place.

“‘What?’. What do you mean ‘What?’?! You were completely ignoring me! What’s got into you?!” The demon scowled one of his patented demonic scowls - known for making humans and lower demons scatter within seconds.

“I… I don’t know”, Aziraphale, also known for being ever articulate, did not have the words to describe what he was experiencing. It must have been something about how lost he sounded that caused Crowley to pause in his irritation, turn to face him more and give him a concerned, quizzical look.

“Are you alright?”

_ Am I alright? I do not think so. I really don’t. _

Aziraphale looked up from the spot on the floor he had found so interesting just moments before, and forced himself to look at Crowley once more. In this position, the serpent had trapped his shirt under his elbow when he had leaned over, forcing the clothing to pull down further and reveal more of his chest - a small patch of auburn hair just barely visible. The angel felt that heat spread through him again - but this time the blood seemed to head in a _very_ _specific_ direction.

Aziraphale inhaled a shrieky gasp, and then levelled the demon with an accusatory glare - eyes squinting in suspicion and distrust.  _ I know exactly what is going on here! How dare that wiley serpent! _

“If you think I don’t know what’s happening here, you are  _ sorely _ mistaken my dear. What  _ exactly _ do you think you are playing at?!” The angel’s eyes, if possible, became even more accusatory.

Crowley yellow irises stared dumbfounded, stuttering incoherently. He swiftly forced himself into a seated position, completely at a loss. The demon bent his arm up to rub the back of his neck in a baffled manner, once again lifting his shirt just enough to show flesh. Aziraphale - of course - noticed this and gasped once more, arms ramrod pushing against his thighs and fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. 

“I see how it is,” the angel forced out between laboured breaths, “you are attempting to get a rise-” his eyes scrunched tightly shut at the poor choice of wording, “-a  _ reaction  _ out of me, and it is not working. You can stop this pointless venture now.” He opened his blue eyes once more, forcing eye contact with the demon, hoping that he got his point across.

Crowley’s full body seemed to drop from the sheer confusion he was experiencing, arms lying limply at his side and mouth agape.

“Angel, I… I genuinely have no idea what this is about. What do you think I’ve done? Granted, I’m usually the first to take responsibility for any and every thing, especially where hell is concerned, but I’ve genuinely done nothing. What’s got you so wound up like this? I don’t get it.” His arms gestured hopelessly at the angel, as he too hoped to try and get his  _ own  _ point across.

Aziraphale stared silently for a moment as he desperately tried to gather his thoughts - an almost impossible feat in his current state as all he can think about is the demon sitting across from him - and what he wished he was doing instead.  _ No! I must be resolute in my thoughts and actions, this is just a cheap parlour trick, a finicky temptation! I will not allow myself to fall for these wiles. _

He scowled in a manner very unbefitting an ethereal being, “And how am I supposed to trust you exactly, demon?”

This seemed to snap Crowley out of his disbelief and he gave an offended scoff, gesturing wildly with his arms, “When have I ever lied to you before, huh?! And whatever this is - I certainly wouldn’t lie over something that’s upset you as much as this! What’s the problem? Just tell me!” he ended his rant with a pointed gesture towards the angel, palms facing upward in an almost begging way that was practically asking for this whole situation to be over.

_ If… if he’s being serious… _ Aziraphale slumped down in his chair, covering his mouth with one hand, staring down at the other as he turned it over and over, inspecting himself in disbelief for any anomalies.  _ This is all me?  _ He glanced back over at Crowley and the look of deep concern on his face sent a rush of affection (and something else) throughout him, causing him to whine pathetically against his open palm.  _ I- I can’t feel like this, I’m an angel! He’s a demon! Need I remind myself, hereditary enemies…  _ He felt his resolution stutter slightly  _ But he’s also Crowley, my best friend. _

“Ah, fuck.” he murmmered into his hand, distorting the words.

“What was that, Angel?” Crowley asked, perching forward in his seat to try and hear better.

“I said ‘Fuck’!” he shouted, angrily throwing away his hand and scowling, before quickly thinking better of it and briefly glancing heavenward with a sheepish smile, clasping his hands almost in prayer, “Apologies!” finally, staring once again steadfastly at the floor with a blank and unreadable expression after the fake smile quickly fell.

The little outburst had sent the demon’s eyebrows flying up off his face, jaw dropped so much you could swear he’d unhinged it (which he could do, of course), and he had shrunk backward into the couch trying to become a cushion - almost fearful (not that he’d admit it). He decided staying quiet was the best course of action. He wasn’t a coward… just smart enough not to provoke an undeserved ethereal smiting of his demonic soul.

Aziraphale sat up with purpose, steepling his hands and raising them to lean against his focused face, “Ah- Are you-” he angled his hands toward the demon,”- _ one hundred percent sure _ … that you are not trying to  _ tempt _ me just now? Even unconsciously. I will not be mad, just tell me the truth. It is very important.” he locked eyes with Crowley, refusing to let go of the gaze until he got answers.

The demon’s wide eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard. He didn’t want to answer prematurely without fully understanding what he had just been asked and risk smiting.

“Okay, okay ehm- I- I really don’t… I don’t think so?” he stuttered, perhaps not entirely convinced of his own words in this perplexing situation. “C- Can you please explain what you think I’m trying to  _ tempt _ you into? I’ve quite often tempted you into having another slice of cake or something equally insignificant like that, but you’ve never reacted like this before… unless you just realised and you’re angry at all the extra cake? Tempting doesn’t actually work unless you actually want it in the first place, you are at least partly to blame for the cake, ye know!” He puffed out his chest and gave the angel a haughty look, feeling rather defensive at the current predicament, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Aziraphale could see that the demon was being truthful, and another rush of affection hit him - causing him to bite his lip and nod weakly at the statement.  _ Focus - This conversation is not over yet, try and have some semblance of dignity and decorum, you stupid angel! _

“I know! I know that I am partial to… over indulgence when it comes to delicacies, but that is not what this is!” He scowled, but this time it was aimed more at himself than the vexing demon sitting across from him. “This is- This- It’s- Arghh! I can’t say it!” he throws his hands up in frustration, before swiftly mirroring Crowley’s crossed arms.

It seemed they were at a stalemate - neither being able to give in to the other.

Eventually, the demon gave out a long-suffering sigh, unable to put up with the tension for one second more.

“Look, Angel. I literally have no idea what is going on here. This is  _ not _ how I pictured today ending, but here we are all the same. You either need to speak up, or- or I need to leave because this,” he gestured a splayed hand in Aziraphale’s general direction, “is giving me a serious down vibe and I just can’t deal with it, ye know? Like, I’m sorry for whatever perceived wrong I’ve caused, but if ye don’t tell me how to fix it then- then I’m just gonna leave ‘cus I ain’t gonna be able to figure it out by myself.” With an air of finality and a small huff, Crowley waited to see how his ultimatum would be interpreted.

Aziraphale felt a rush of desperation go through him - which intermingled in a not-so-unpleasant way with his other tumultuous feelings.  _ I can’t say it! I just can’t… but maybe… _

“Just- Just look at me!” he stressed, hoping to get his point across.

“What do you mean? I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you for this full insane situation!”

“No, I mean- I mean  _ really look  _ at me” he implored, searching the demon’s eyes for any kind of acknowledgment of his true meaning.

And truly, Crowley did know what he meant. After their first few meetings in The Beginning, both Beings had agreed that spying on each others’ auras was an uncomfortable and unnecessary breach of privacy. It was decided then, that neither would look without permission first. Now, Crowley had been tempted on several occasions to breach this promise - came with the territory of being a demon - but ‘deals’ were also sacred to demons. Whilst loopholes can be exploited and words can be twisted, a demon would never go back on a deal if they had any pride at all. Permission  _ had _ been granted now though, and he was admittedly more than a bit curious as to the cause of this mess.

So he looked, he  _ really _ looked. And he  _ saw _ . He could see the confusion, the turmoil and slight fear that Aziraphale was projecting. How  _ the fuck _ he saw that through the swirling, explosive tendrils of lust,  _ yes lust  _ that were threatening to engulf the angel he has no fucking idea. He had accused Crowley of being the cause of  _ this _ ?! Oh. Oh shit.

He was currently sitting across from the most gorgeous being he had ever met that he always knew he could never have, and said being was dealing with lust for the first time ever, lust _aimed at him_ and they may spontaneously combust because angels are _not_ _supposed_ to experience such a thing in the first place.

Crowley had no idea what his face must have looked like as it flew through approximately fifty different expressions, but he finally settled on bewilderment.

  
“Now I see why you said ‘fuck’.  _ Fuuuuuuuuck. _ ”


	2. Chapter 2

The tense atmosphere in the bookshop continued to sizzle as Crowley analysed the situation at hand. This was not good. Well, it wasn’t bad, but it definitely wasn’t good. This was beyond anything he had ever dealt with before, and he was considering not dealing with it at all honestly - making a swift escape.

Aziraphale wasn’t faring much better from his armchair. The feelings just seemed to get more intense everytime the demon did something.  _ Did anything _ . Scratched his head? Check. Clenched his fist? Check. Ran a hand through his hair?  _ Double check.  _ He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. He was perfectly able to confront this situation with poise and ethereal grace. Or he certainly had every intention of doing so but as soon as he opened his eyes, he witnessed the demon fiddling with the knee of his jeans in fearful anticipation. This, of course, sent another shiver through his body as he tried to smother a small gasp with his fist.

“Can you just stop that!” he admonished,  _ he’s got to be doing it on purpose at this point, this is not funny in the slightest! _

Crowley blinked a few times, frozen to the spot, “...do what? I think we have already established I’m not deliberately responsible for… this” he pointed a shaky finger at the angel, fearful of his wrath.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous dear boy, you know I’m referring to all that-that  _ stuff _ with the  _ touching _ and-and the  _ moving _ .” At this, Crowley seemed to look into the middle-distance for a few seconds, muttering to himself  _ fucked if I do, fucked if I don’t  _ \- before glaring at the Angel.

“So, what exactly? I’m supposed to just sit here like a statue?” he could have said more, but restrained himself given the tenuous nature of the situation.

Aziraphale huffed then seemed lost in thought for a moment.  _ Surely he can sort this mess out, he is a demon after all… _

“This is your fault, so you have to fix it.” he spoke with an air of finality, a look of confidence he didn’t have plastered over his face.

If possible, Crowley seemed to stiffen even further - shock radiating off him in waves.

“Did you… did you just proposition me? You?! Me?!”

The angel fell back in his seat, stuttering wildly, crossing his arms. He immediately decided to uncross them after the sensation of touch it provided, forcing himself to grip the armrests instead. At this point the physical reaction of his body was getting a bit too obvious, so he delicately crossed his legs - wincing as he did. This, to Crowley, was not as subtle as Aziraphale had intended and in fact drew more attention to his current predicament.

“No! No. Of course n- uh what I  _ meant _ was-” Whilst some small part of his brain - probably the bastard part - tried to scream  _ Yes! _ he forced out a different answer, gesturing at the demon vaguely, “Can’t you just… turn it off?”

Crowley seemed to relax minutely, before immediately bristling at the comment like a scorned cat.

“‘Turn it off’? Turn  _ what _ off?!”

“You know. It.”

“No, Angel. I do not - in fact - know what you mean by ‘it’.” he scowled in suspicion.

“The-the whole thing. The moving and the touching and the appeal of it.”

Crowley fell back into the couch, throwing his arms in the air with a dramatic sigh.

“What, you want me to turn myself into a snail or something? Wear old granny clothes?” He scoffed in complete disbelief at this point. His initial fight or flight response was starting to wear off, and as the adrenaline left his system he found it only marginally less despairing to deal with this situation.

“Could you?” The glare he received immediately revealed the sarcastic nature of the initial comment, “No… no I suppose not.” he looked down at the floor, feeling slightly helpless. The desperate look seemed to have an effect on the demon, who then felt it necessary to try and redeem this situation.

“Look, I mean, it’s not the end of the world is it? I mean, we literally stopped that, so we can work this out surely? It’s just a bit of-uh lust, right? S’not a big deal. All of the major sins are pretty equal, yet you don’t seem to have an issue with gluttony.” Crowley raised his hand in a halting gesture after the angel looked like he was going to interrupt, “Don’t lie, you know it’s true. All am sayin’ is that… when you compare the two, is there really such a difference in severity?” The demon tilted his head, eyebrows raised as he pouted his lips slightly in question.

“W-well, yes! There is a distinct difference actually! The two cannot be compared. I can’t exactly say ‘Why yes dear boy, it is exactly the same, I want to eat cake and I also want to eat  _ you _ .’” Aziraphale’s blush deepened, his body stiffening further at the imagery.

Crowley made some unintelligible noises, shrinking in on himself. This comment was almost lethal. He seemed to find some small amount of resolve (no fucking clue where he found it), and considered his next words very carefully.

“Is that really… Is it such a bad thing?” 

A few moments later, boosted by the Angel’s lack of outright disgust, he continued, “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Doesn’t even have to be a weird thing really.” He shrugged in a way that belied how tense he was feeling, “I mean, we’ve known each other for six thousand years, right? It doesn’t have to be weird.”

The angel considered this, trying to ignore the aching he was starting to feel from not dealing with his traitorous body.  _ Well, I suppose it doesn’t have to be ‘weird’, Crowley is a dear friend after all. What does that actually mean though? _

“If-if it doesn’t have to be  _ ‘weird’ _ , then how do you propose we deal with this?” his voice was fairly flat, but he couldn’t fully disguise the slight note of anticipation that leaked into it.

“Weeeell, I mean - I do know one way that could deal with the issue. It would involve  _ actually dealing with it  _ though. If you were amenable to that, of course.” he tapped the rim of his wine glass in anticipation, terrified of the answer he was about to receive. 

Aziraphale squirmed, immensely relieved and equally terrified of the way this night was headed. Perhaps equally terrified wasn’t the right phrase through, as his fear was definitely a secondary thought.  _ Best to play coy I think.  _

“So, if I said yes… What would you do?”

The demon’s eyes lit up, pupils dilating wider than before. The prospect that Aziraphale was even considering this was more than he could have ever hoped for - and something that wasn’t actually on his radar before tonight.

“Oh, well, I’d do lots of things I’d imagine. Bit of this and that, ye know?”

“Ah I see. Well not fully. Mighten it be… prudent in this case, that you give a bit of a demonstration?” Aziraphale gestured vaguely, quite like the weight of the action he had just asked for was akin to making a cup of tea. Crowley endeavoured not to melt into a puddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this reads like an inebriated person wrote it cus you wouldn't be wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

After a much needed moment to recover, Crowley slowly staggered to his feet. Whether this was from the shock or the wine was anyone’s guess. In his standing position, he was hunched (totally not making himself as small as physically possible), and he took a tentative first step toward the Angel like he was approaching a sentient vat of holy water that could lash out at a moment's notice.

He immediately stopped, slowly placing his wine glass down on the coffee table so as not to frighten Aziraphale, maintaining eye contact throughout. He cocked his head forward, brows raised in a questioning look to ask permission for the next step.

Aziraphale decidedly rolled his eyes at the display (though he would admit that he did somewhat appreciate all of the dramatic expressions - if a little too much). His hand waved back and forth between the two of them in exasperation, “Yes, yes let’s get on with this - no time like the present, dear boy”.

Crowley briefly looked affronted, but then decided that complaining about the angel’s attitude may put the brakes on this - and he was not getting accused of going ‘too fast’ this time, so he wasn’t going to jeopardise this opportunity in any kind of way. He quickly smothered his expression and replaced it with a stiff smile of mild contempt..

Another tentative step was taken, followed soon by another. At this point, Crowley had noticed a direct correlation between the shorter the distance there was between the two of them and the number of desperate wiggles per minute (W/m) that Aziraphale was producing. This was, in turn, causing the demon to stress out further - and his heart-palpitations per minute (H-P/m) rate to increase, respectively.

Crowley had calculated that he was only approximately two steps from his final destination.  _ Ack well, technically slightly less than two steps if i’m bein’ honest _ . But two steps felt like the better option - two small steps instead of one big step. One big step might be perceived as a leap, and demons do not leap. If anything, demons are better known for their lurking - and lurking involves small shuffling steps. Besides, Aziraphale may find a leap too fast, and what if he didn’t stick the landing and fell flat on his arse? Or,  _ satan forbid, _ on the angel?  _ Wait - what if he wants me to leap? Like a grand gesture or-or to show interest?! One or two steps?! _

Our attention is brought back to Aziraphale, who was staring at Crowley in abject horror. The Demon had stopped motionless, leg dangling indecisively in the air, continuously muttering “One or two, one or two, one or two?”. _ Is he having a stroke?! Can demons have strokes?! _

“Crowley?!” Aziraphale squeaked, but it was loud enough to snap the demon out of his stupor. He looked confused for a moment but quickly let out a short laugh with a weird intonation (initially intended to be reassuring, but actual almost sounded like a threat) as he stumbled the last  _ two steps _ toward Aziraphale, quickly righting himself before he went tipping forward (and Crowley did not almost over-compensate and fall backwards, thank you very much).

Having  _ finally  _ reached his destination, now he just had to decide on what step two was. Aziraphale sighed in relief, bracing himself. His eyes had been shut tightly as he gave himself an inner ethereal pep-talk, but he forced himself to open them and slowly look up. Crowley had been very happy to have another inner monologue about this ‘step two’. He had plenty of ideas and he was just about to carry out a simulation in his brain for each one, when he glanced at the angel.

He witnessed Aziraphale slowly lift his eyes, watched attentively as they roamed all over him on the way up. He saw the sheepish look settle on the angel’s face, the slight flinch when eye contact was eventually made - the pleading blue eyes just begging for the demon to take over and  _ do something _ . He instinctively knew what to do.  _ Sod the simulations! What was I even thinking? It’s obvious. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. _

A slender hand cautiously reached out toward the angel. Crowley would tell you that his face was definitely not mushy, how could he even produce a facial expression that looked slightly reassuring? Demons’ facial-bone structure couldn’t support such a thing, duh. The hand was centimetres away from the angel’s face, and Aziraphale refused to break eye contact with what he would  _ definitely _ tell you was the most reassuring face he had ever seen before - let alone on Crowley.

Fingertips finally,  _ finally _ touched skin - the angel seemed to jerk into the motion, eyelids fluttering shut as he inhaled abruptly through his nose. It was less of a flinch and more of a computer glitching at not being able to compute. The hand gently cupped the angel’s cheek, careful not to apply too much pressure. The demon slowly leaned down, softly applying a small kiss to his forehead as his thumb gently rubbed  _ not _ -reassuringly across his soft skin.

Aziraphale let out a soft sigh, relaxing back into the armchair - the most relaxed he’d been since this whole thing started.  _ Crowley knows what he is doing. It will all be fine. _

Crowley drew back slightly, but didn’t leave the angel’s immediate vicinity. They locked eyes, wide innocent blue staring into impossibly wider serpentine. Their gaze didn’t falter as Crowley’s thumb that had been gently stroking Aziraphale’s cheek migrated a little more left - now stroking in short smooth motions over the corner of his bottom lip. The tender ministrations caused the angel’s lips to part slightly, letting out a soft breath. The only thing they could hear was each other’s breathing and the rushing beat of their own heart’s in their ears, like erratic hummingbirds. 

Crowley bent down once more, but this time he placed a small kiss on Aziraphale’s right cheek. Without moving too far back, he placed another incrementally closer to his lips. He went in for another, but found himself very surprised to find that he was no longer kissing in the safe vicinity of the cheek. As his desire continued to consume him, Aziraphale took the opportunity to quickly turn his head and kiss the demon’s lips, tentatively and with reverence.

Crowley’s hand that was not busy moved to grasp the armrest to steady himself as they both moved their lips lightly against one another, testing the waters. The angel reached out with his pinky to stroke the hand once before moving to cover the hand completely. His other hand gradually gravitated to the demon’s left cheek, thumb providing one decisive stroke across his cheekbone before shifting around to the back of his head to apply light pressure.

The demon mirrored his move, never breaking contact with the skin of his cheek as his hand reached back to apply pressure in kind. His splayed fingers came together to better feel the soft blonde hair between them, thumb stroking lightly over the small crevice behind the angel’s ear. He lifted a knee to place it on the far side of the armchair to bring him closer and closer to the ethereal being of his focus.

Crowley forced himself to break from the kiss, eliciting a desperate keening sound from the angel. He bent further down and started applying small kisses to Aziraphale’s neck, hand moving further down to encourage him to lift his chin - of course the angel was more than happy to oblige and exposed his neck further to the serpent. What started as small kisses started to be peppered with endearing nips - causing Aziraphale to groan and give out the occasional short gasp.

“Do you trust me?” Crowly murmured against his neck between his ministrations. 

“ _ Yes _ .” The angel finally got out after a particularly forceful rush of desire having had Crowley’s voice added to the situation at hand.

“Will you let me touch you?” the demon asked as he moved to the other side of his neck - which Aziraphale immediately accommodated.

“ _ Please.”  _ The word was dragged out longer than it needed to be just to convey the desperation and want.

Crowley let out a low rumble of appeasement against Aziraphale’s neck as he adjusted his left hand to lace his fingers with the angels. His knee which had been slotted onto the armchair slowly slipped backwards - Aziraphale was devastated at the loss of contact that had been providing heat next to his thigh, but was quickly filled with something else as he saw the demon end up on his knees in front of him.

“I will take care of you Angel, I will always take care of you.” The hand that was laced with the angels pulled the hand up to his lips, placing a tender kiss on the back of Aziraphale’s hand.

“Fuck.” The angel managed to squeak out whilst biting the side of his lower lip. Crowley let go of his hand, placing his free ones on the Angel’s knees as Aziaphale’s hand returned to the relative safety of the armrest. The fabric of the arm rests was held in a death grip, trying to ground himself. 

“If you want me to stop you need to tell me.” Crowley emphasised as he ran his hand up to the angel’s thighs, simultaneously squeezing them as he pushed the angel’s legs further apart.

After recovering from the sharp moan that was forced from his lips, Aziraphale gave Crowley a look that could only have conveyed ‘ _ are you mad?!’ _ , breathily managing to say, “ _ Please, please don’t stop. Please _ ”.

Crowley let out a desperate growl, squeezing his thighs once more, overwhelmed by his angel’s need for him whilst still holding onto some semblance of control. He reached up with his right hand under his waistcoat to deftly undo Aziraphale’s trouser button, left hand still squeezing his thigh and he leaned forward to nuzzle his face in between his legs. Aziraphale lurched forward, eyes shut with a crushing force as his mouth dropped open, wide in pleasure.

The demon continued to move his head, nipping at his inner thighs through the fabric of his trousers. The noise of a zip being undone by that wily hand left the angel muttering incoherently in anticipation of what was to come. Two hands now snaked to either side of the parting in the trousers to pry them apart, one hand reaching in to finally,  _ finally _ release the angel from the confines of his trousers. The touch had only been brief but it left the angel completely reeling at the pleasure that it had evoked, keening and gasping with desperation.

Aziraphale finally opened his eyes and looked down, seeing himself free and with Crowley grasping onto his gaze, face of absolute debauchery as he inched closer and closer to his Effort.

The angel let out a string of noises, the occasional swear coming into play and he couldn’t have given less of shit.

Just as it looked like the demon was about to make contact with his Effort he paused and gave the biggest shit-eating-grin that he had ever witnessed. Immediately the angel’s face changed to guarded apprehension and he looked as though he was about to ask ‘ _ and what does that face mean exactly?!’  _ but it was too late because the serpent swallowed his length whole and if you expected Aziraphale to ever string a sentence together again then you are asking  _ too much. _

No. The only noises that Aziraphale could make from now on consist entirely of moans. Different kinds of moans certainly - desperate, low, whiny, absolutely wretched - but moans nonetheless.

Crowley rumbled in pleasure as he swallowed around the angel’s Effort, starting to rhythmically dart his forked tongue around the head. Upon seeing the squirming, completely undone angel above him, he found himself starting to bob his head back and forth with deliberate precision. At some point, Aziraphale’s hands found their way into his fiery hair, desperate to grab as he tried vainly to rock his hips being held in place by the serpent.

If Aziraphale thought that this was overwhelming, he had no idea what he was going to do when the pleasure started to mount exponentially. His hands left Crowley, one moving to grab and yank at his own hair and the other came up to cover his mouth, biting down on his index finger. Just when it started to get  _ beyond _ overstimulating, he was slammed with a feeling of the deepest euphoria he had ever experienced. He was completely rigid, his Effort throbbing rhythmically as Crowley continued to grin around it and swallow.

At some point, Aziraphale started to twitch and jerk with the continued over-stimulation and the serpent stopped, gently releasing the limp Effort and ever so delicately tucking it back in the angel’s trousers - for modesty’s sake.

Crowley crossed his arms across Aziraphale’s knees and gently rested his head down across one side, staring up at him. Aziraphale proceeded to stare into the middle distance for at least five minutes, but what is five minutes to beings that have lived for over six thousand years?

After these five minutes, he slowly dragged his eyes down to looking into the serpentine ones through his half-lidded eyes. They stared at each other for just as long - words not necessary in this moment. Slowly, the angel’s right lip twitched up into a goofy smirk and they cocked their head to the side. Crowley grinned widely, eyebrows jumping up and down in a suggestive manner. The body he was resting his head on gave a shuddered wheeze of exhausted laughter in return. 

“Hmm.” The angel suddenly hummed in a questioning manner, as an interesting look spread on his face.

“What?” Crowley moved his head to lie on the other side, intrigued by this development, grinning in an equally goofy fashion.

“Well my dear boy,” the angel gave a rather coy expression, eyes dancing playfully along the ceiling in a questioning way - squinting, “it’s just that, you did say you would  _ fix _ this lust business, but it doesn’t quite seem to have gone yet.” As though to enforce this thought, the angel’s effort seemed to twitch in its recovery. Crowley’s eyebrows rose in question as he angled his head as if to say, ‘ _ oh, yeah?’ _ .

“Now, far be it from me to accuse you of lying,” Aziraphale lazily lifted his hand and clicked his fingers, “but I just seem to have come into possession of a rather luxurious bedroom. Perhaps you would like to see your promise through to the end upstairs, dear boy?” Aziraphale’s eyes met Crowley’s once more, this time it was Aziraphale sporting the shit-eating-grin. Without further hesitation, the demon grabbed the angel by the hand and bodily dragged him to the staircase.

\---

Not long after the failed Armegedon’t, the leading forces of heaven and hell found themselves convening for weekly meetings to discuss the way forward for both realms.

When it became clear that war wasn’t in the cards, both Archangel Gabriel and Lord Beelzebub continued to meet anyway as an undefined support group for ethereal and occult bosses that just couldn’t deal with the constant resentful workforce.

Both beings were sitting on a bench in a deserted park - the only light source being the streetlamp nearby - pouring out their problems to each other for the weight it seemed to lift off of their shoulders.

“-And you will not  _ believe _ what I caught Sandalphon doing. Why is this even a thing? Why is this something that I actually have to reprimand a fellow angel for?! Does explain the dental work though. Always wondered about that.”

Beelzebub looked as though they were going to ask about the gossip, when they were interrupted by a pinging noise. The Lord of Flies glared at the angel, unimpressed.

“I thought zzzat we were going to make zzzure we had our phonezzz on zzzilent for the meetingzzz.” Their glare increased ten-fold, how else were they going to get a moment's reprieve from work?

The angel reached into his pocket to extract his phone, “Oh, it is on silent. However, I do have it set to always notify me regardless when that dirty traitor performs a miracle. We can never be too careful in case he and that vile demon of yours start plotting something.” He was going to wait for Beelzebub to reply, but suddenly his phone started pinging in quick succession.

“What does that traitor think he’s pla-” Gabriel’s face lost all colour, and the hand with the phone fell limply at his side whilst the other covered his mouth in revulsion. He was shaking slightly. Whatever he had read had caused a serious reaction.

“What izzz it?” Beelzebub had asked, but upon getting no reply, they decided to take the phone and read it for themselves.

  
  


**Notification - Traitor - Moderate Miracle:**

_ One large furnished bedroom _

**Notification - Traitor - Minor Miracle:**

_ Remove clothes of The Demon Crowley _

**Notification - Traitor - Minor Miracle:**

_ One bottle of whipped cream _

**Notification - Traitor - Minor Miracle:**

_ One bottle of lube _

**Notification - Traitor - Minor Miracle:**

_ No sexual refractory period _

Beelzebub proceeded to produce a very un-demon-like screech and burned the infernal device to ashes with hellfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bahaha this was super fun to write >;)

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I've had in my head for a while - definitely glad to get it written down.


End file.
